N E W YQR] DIVISION - O'Ryan's Roughnecks

GAS ATTACK 7
1 THE IDEAS OF ETHELBURT JELLYBACK, PRIVATE, |
For thirty long days I i
tended the incinerator, I, |
Ethelburt Jellyback, the f
scion of a great family. t........#..,.....#..........
For thirty long days 1
was the stoker of the fires, as punishment
for what my captain regarded as misdeeds.
For thirty long eons—quaint word, eons—
I was forced to get up before reveille and
don a fatigue uniform. I was forced to
ply with wood that rectilinear structure of
bricks which stands at the head of the company
street. I was forced to keep its fires
roaring, to burn the empty tin cans and then
smash them—• there is nothing aristocratic
about burning tin cans—, and to heat water
for the wash tubs in which the men clean
their mess tins after every meal. I lost
appetite, weight, and dignity.
I reached some philosophical
conclusions.
One of them was that the chief function of
an incinerator is to belch forth enormous
quantities of pungent smoke which always
blows into your eyes, no matter where you
stand. Also, that fatigue uniforms are loose
fitting suits of blue material originally tailored
for fat men. I am not fat.
Ethelburt's Soul Reoels.
My soul rebelled at wearing such crude
garments. I was not accustomed to it at
home; so why should I permit it here?
Therefore, I telegraphed to my tailors in
New York and instructed them to make me
up a blue suit according to the measurements
they have long had of me.
"Make it of blue flannel," I wired,
"with
a neat stripe in it, cuffs for the trousers, a
pinch-back coat, with long rolling lapels,
and patch pockets."
The prompt arrival of the suit revived my
flagging spirits. I could now dress in a
manner more befitting a Jellyback, despite
the annoying nature of my erstwhile occupation.
Donning the neatly-tailored suit, I
stood at ease in front of the incinerator,
feeling that through the gift of my unusual
ideas I could rise superior to my surroundings.
"What time does the dancing
begin?"
It was my captain speaking. He stood
looking at me strangely.
"Dancing?" I repeated. "I don't understand,
sir."
"I thought you had just stepped out of the
country club. It must be my mistake, Jellyback.
Where'd you get the clothes?"
"I had them made, sir."
"But they aren't regulation."
XVII.
He Tends the Incinerator and Gets
Mugrums There, Too
Ethelburt Gets Another Idea.
I went back to my tent, depressed. I
hated to put on those other—those other uncouth
things which—well, I might as well
say it once and for all—those things which
are nothing more or less than overalls.
There, the truth is out. And one can't look
smart in overalls. 1 defy you to.
I knew that some smart women from town
were coming up to visit camp that afternoon.
I feared they would see me tending
the incinerator in that awful suit. The day
before a party of ladies had almost come
upon me before I discovered them, and in
the party were several who knew me. I had
been obliged to flee precipitatedly into the
mess shack, where I hid until they passed.
"Cheer up, Ethelburt," said the smudgyfaced
private, Jim Mugrums, "the good die
young."
"That is probably why they were good.
They never had to tend the incinerator."
"Say, Ethelburt, can you lend me two bits
'til Saturday?"
I looked at Mugrums. This crude little
fellow, whom I used as my orderly until he
got me into so much trouble, was always
trying to get money with which to play a
ridiculous game called craps. As I saw the
eagerness on Mugrum's countenance, an
idea came to me.
"I will not only give you two bits," I replied,
"but I will give you two dollars if you
will do something for me today. Hold yourself
in readiness to relieve me at the incinf
erator for a half hour this
| afternoon. It may be for
| only fifteen or twenty min-
UteS. I Will let VOU knOW
when the time comes. And
the two dollars shall be yours at. once."
The Ladies Arrive.
That afternoon I saw the party of social
leaders approaching. They were strolling
down the regimental street on a tour of idle
inspection. I raced to my tent, threw off
my overalls, and sent Mugrums back to my
post.
Then I strolled leisurely back to the head
of the street just as the ladies turned in
and stopped, looking around.
"There's Ethelburt!" they cried,
swooping
down on me with many pleasurable exclamations.
I greeted them hospitably.
"Fancy
meeting you here, I said. "How
quaint!"
"Oh, Ethelburt, show us around your
company street, won't you, dear boy? And
tell me, why do they call it the company
street."
"With pleasure.
They call it the company
street, my dear Mrs. Willowy, because it is
here we receive our company. First let me
call your attention to one of the most weird
monuments of the army. I refer not so
much to the blue-clad fellow there—" pointing
to Mugrums, who was putting wood on
the fire—" as to the object on which he is
bestowing his care. It is the incinerator.
I believe it is listed on the quartermaster's
books as "incinerator, smokey, one. '
5
Ethelburt's Lecture.
"A fire must be kept going in it constantly,
whether it is needed or not. Otherwise
an inspector will come around, frown at it,
and make a note in a book. The fluid which
you see boiling and bubbling in the big pans
on top, is not soup, as has been popularly
supposed, but it is the relic of this morning's
coffee being boiled to the point of evaporation.
(Continued on page 40)
"No, sir.
They fit me."
"I thought there was something wrong.
Go back and put on the ones the supply sergeant
gave you."
'What time does the dancing begin?"